


Not By The Moon (a got7 au)

by Thumbtak



Category: GOT7
Genre: F/M, Multi, Not by the moon au, Oc/Got7, got7 au, whoresseok au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27346759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thumbtak/pseuds/Thumbtak
Summary: Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. Two red strings that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. Of course, with such an impact, it’s legitimacy was questioned again and again. Nothing like magic to be questioned. It’s ability to bind those meant for one another would either be unquestioned or fully trusted. There's no in between, at least not for most. Few hopeless romantics saw it nothing less than extraordinary while realists saw it to be folly, useless tales to entrance the dumb. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful.Then again, the red string of fate was never meant to be just pretty.
Kudos: 3





	1. One - Nothing Like This

**HWAN JIHYE HAS NEVER FULLY LOVED COFFEE** . She’s always detested the bitterness that came with the caffeine overload. However, she did favor the caramel that awaited her at the bottom. They blended _almost_ perfectly. Yes, almost, and in the case of today, it’s an even _truer_ statement. The barista that had continued to stare at her barely put in any caramel, much to her distaste. She’s not sure if he was that distracted or found her tip not plentiful enough. She had given him a short glare in annoyance but took the drink gladly. She was agitated about her specific taste and felt like continuing her day, rather than demand another drink be made. She wasn’t that petty. At least not today. 

And now, she’s hesitantly drinking a barely sweet coffee whilst considering her schedule for the day. 

Jihye barely ever has an uneventful day. As a long standing painter of Hwan Studios, she’s their resident artist. Her schedule consists of tactful meetings and whatnot, her stern demeanor present in every single one of them. Her hands are her tools, not her face. She begins to recount it in her head, her hand reaching for her phone in her expensive purse. It’s black exterior is soft as it’s insides are of smooth velvet. She finds it within seconds. There’s already dozens of notifications blowing up her phone, most of them being from a group chat. She also disliked and liked it. She didn’t like the constant messaging and nagging of her phone but it’s nice to text everyone. 

Clearing it away, she goes directly to her calendar, a cumulative meeting of everything she’ll ever do. She’s punctual in her timing. Her brain is refreshed, suddenly noting that CEO Min wanted her to attend some meeting with an entertainment company. She remembers how she previously brushed it off with indifference, having been warned that they were no good. ‘Don’t work with them’ this and ‘They’re amateurs’ that. Both being from the head of the company, no less. She sighs, leaving it to be nothing else than a confusing statement. She sips on the not-so-sweet liquid. She savors the tiny bits of caramel her mouth musters from the flimsy straw. 

Next, would be the aggravating dinner she’d have with a CEO she could only describe as ‘crusty’. A friend of the blasted CEO, he is. She despises the usual ones. Y’know, the disgusting creeps who just happen to be greedy sons of bitches. But that would be a lesson she could eloquently describe to the higher ups when they actually give a damn about decency. “Damned pig,” she huffs under her breath. 

As she walks, her eyes become stuck to the screen. Her focus is completely on the very necessary schedule. It’s what completes her day and dictates it, but also what limits it. As a result, she barely looks ahead of herself, only a glance or two deemed possible for her mud-like eyes. She pays no attention to the pavement in front of her. 

Opposite to her, his actions aren’t so different. His well done hair and expertly stylized outfit express his cleanliness, his position, even. He holds his phone in one hand and a blazing coffee in the other. His eyes are enraptured with the online conversation his screen displays. The fervent caffeinated liquid distracts him from the fair weather outside. If it were any other day, perhaps he’d pay more attention to it, the temperature usually more balanced than usual. 

And as chance would have it, they both screech in shock at a certain feeling of wetness. Jihye drops her phone at the contact of a coffee, a scalding one at that. She seethes at the heat. It seeps through her once pristine, white blouse. It’s intensity practically burns part of her chest and stomach. Her body recoils as a reaction. He groans at the glacial feeling, his skin suddenly cold. He had worn a blazer for his meeting, a black one. He looks down to see the dripping of coffee, colder coffee, that is. He finds it gross. He doesn’t want to waste a fairly nice blazer. Not being wet in the middle of the sidewalk is great, too. He meets the glare of the woman who he hears screech, an angry looking one at that. He groans at the look of things. 

They’re _both_ aggravated. Jihye can see the annoyance on his face, just as she’s sure he can detect hers. She sighs as her mind is ready to curse out an idiot who almost burned her. It would be nice, considering her day was subpar already. Alas, her basic manners kick in, reminding her that she hadn’t been looking where she was going. She admits how ironic it is whilst it’s just as irritating. She squints at his expression. She knows she had a good amount of responsibility in the situation, but she figures he’d at least try to apologize as a courtesy. He doesn’t. 

She curses under her breath. People quickly looked at the sight of the scene, realizing an accident occurred. She wonders if people recognize her or him, thinking he has some kind of air about him. She waves it off as she bends down to pick up her now shattered phone. Her ears grasp the sounds of clicking cameras. “Tch.” She deeply breathes in, ready to sacrifice a percentage of her personal pride for the sake of manners _and_ what will soon be on the internet. Her eyes study his face for a second. She notes how he has a, well, raging bitch face. Perhaps it’s an angry expression his face takes on in the face of agitation, but she wouldn’t know that. She thinks of how his face is rather unique, looking more like a computer generated thing than someone’s face. She’s not sure if she means it as a compliment or not. He’s dressed expensively, too. His body is adorned of mostly black, his grey t-shirt serving as a contrast. His hair is nothing too special, despite it looking nice. Besides his looks seeming familiar and admittedly, _good-looking_ , she still frowns with her irritation intact. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. My mistake,” she forces it out. She knows how robotic it sounds. It’s natural for it to seem like she’s a child who thinks they’re in the right, considering her own thoughts on the situation. 

“ _Mhm_ , me too. I’d be careful next time.” He sounds just as robotic, perhaps even more so than her. He keeps his consistent glare on his face before attaching his gaze upon the space behind Jihye, his feet moving faster than his face. He’s already past her as the anger bubbles within her. She didn’t expect him to sound sincere, but something just hit the nerve. Perhaps it being her own medicine is enough to snap something in her. Perhaps she hates the guy who seemed familiar. With the thought fresh in her mind, she clears her throat and takes his move. She urges her legs to continue their road to Hwan Studios. _Begrudgingly so_. 

Jihye’s sure she’s giving the press even more reason to call her a stone cold bitch. Nothing says negativity like everyone giving her an annoyed look and she’s positive it’s because of her unchaining expression. She can control what she looks like and yet, she’s not about to appease the image of what idols have to maintain. 

She steps into the large building, employees all around the fancy desks and elevators. She feels their gaze on her, mostly upon her tainted clothing. She’s almost impressed they’re not all giving her fearful gazes as usual. Being the scary looking just above them was something she’s finally accustomed to. However, within a moment’s notice, they all give a worrying look towards her expression. She wonders if she looks like some demon. Perhaps. 

One of the clerks, Minhyung, nods towards her. He’s nervous as per usual, but finds it pertinent to alarm her of an announcement. “U-Uh, CEO Min is having t-the meeting on floor five today, M-Ms. Hwan.” He nearly shakes saying it. The others look at him in amazement and even bewilderment. His glasses cover the fear in his eyes. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t bother looking at him, knowing how jittery the poor boy is. He’s younger than her, a fact she’s reminded of, daily. He lets out a sigh of relief, letting his head fall back to his moniter’s gaze. Jihye continues her journey to what is now floor five. She ventures into one of the many sleek elevators, pressing the now illuminated button. The metallic walls remind her of her somewhat disheveled appearance. 

A stained blouse and angry expression are the first to come to mind. Her expensive clothing is second. The black pants and midnight-like blazer make her think of a certain...loneliness. It seems to suck her up, like a black hole of sorts. Even her black hair looks cold, no color to invite personality. “Hm,” she hums. She knows how bitchy she looks in black. She smirks for a moment, before letting it fall. An indifferent face replaces it, just in time for the elevator doors to open. 

She walks out as the glamorously stale walls surround her. She’s seen them a million times. They also exude the same sensation her closet usually brings, but with even more professionalism. Her heeled boots clack against the marble floor. The white tiles mix with the black walls, reminding the young Korean just how lifeless the decorations feel. She grabs the clear handles to the board room. She can't see through the clear doors all too well, the sun peeking through the windows. She squints as a result. 

“Jihye! Finally, we can begin this meeting.” CEO Min, an older and fairly petit woman, greets her. A forced and albeit sweetly sickening smile sits on her face as she motions her hand for Jihye to sit as well. Her eyes instantly widen in unison with the supposed guest, a familiar and rage inducing face. She frowns even more, if that was possible. His face scrunches up in slight disgust. Her eyes dance between the CEO and the young man. She mentally scoffs, curious of why god suddenly decided to make her day the worst with a pinch of shit. She warily saunters toward the leather chair, directly across from him. She glares at him. As does he, with even more hints of vexation. They both look to the very woman who arranged such a meeting. 

“Jihye, I’d like to introduce who we’ll be doing our collaboration with. This is Park Jinyoung—“

“JYP Entertainment.” The words slide off her tongue with venom. She remembers quite clearly now. The exact company she had been warned of and directed to stay away from, none other by the woman sitting a few feet away from her. “Yes, you eloquently warned me of them, Mrs. Min.” 

“‘Warned is a bit _exaggerated'._ I simply informed you of them.” She sweetly smiles at him, not exactly convincing him. “And this is Hwan Jihye, my—a beloved artist at Hwan Studios. She’s one of our best and _oldest_.” 

She slightly winces at the last part, thinking it not precisely pertinent. “You know, it would have been very insightful if you informed me of who I’d be working with, ma’am. Why a sudden collaboration when you can’t even notify your senior artist?” The hate in her voice made the older woman sigh. It even extends to the man, Jinyoung. 

“Why keep two perfectly capable artists in the dark, Mrs. Min? Afraid one can’t compensate?” His tone is just as cold. 

She can tell it’s a slight jab at her own abilities, despite not knowing the other. She rolls her eyes before focusing her attention on the target. “ _Of course not_ ,” she laughs, in an obvious corner. “We just found it to be more of a lax way of telling you two about it.” Jihye finds it to be bullshit. 

“And just what kind of collaboration is this? I won’t waste my time on something that requires minimal effort.” 

“For a music video, er, album.” 

“A what now?” She stuck her neck out a bit, shock written over her face. She’s no musical artist, nor is she about to be one. 

“You cannot be serious. We never even ask—“

“Yes, _you_ didn’t, but the company did. We reached a mutual decision. It would be quite beneficial if we had Jihye create art for the music video and perhaps some performances.” She says it so casually, it makes the two wonder why they’re even there. 

“ _No_ .” Her words make CEO Min sigh, whilst causing Jinyoung to raise an eyebrow. Even when agreeing, he found it a bit offensive. “I work with who I want and when I want. You didn’t do your job of presenting a _tolerable_ client and what’s more, you expect me to join a project I don’t know anything about? Shall I do your job for you?” She spits anger out from her words as she stands up, her veins filled with agitation. “Mr. Park, we will not be collaborating on your group’s next album or music video, whatever it may be.” She gives a glare back to the supposed CEO, turning on her heels to get back to the elevator. She doesn't look back at their apologetic actions nor does she listen to their yelps of ‘Wait!’. 

As Jihye disappears from his sight, Jinyoung whispers a little, “Tch,” before rising in his own seat. He picks up his stained blazer from the table and turns to face the older woman. “Next time, pick a patient artist, Mrs. Min. Wouldn’t want your reputation to sink like this meeting.” He leaves the room, a flabbergasted woman paying him just about all the mind. He quickly takes the next elevator, his fingers massaging his own temple. 

He’s had enough of shitty events one after the other. He’s not sure if he’s thankful for Hwan Jihye’s refusal or offended she’s so unable to work with him. It’s both insulting and interesting, for sure. He’d even admit that she initially caught some of his eye at first. He couldn’t deny that she has beautiful features, her style somewhat similar to his. Although, the appeal rapidly disappeared as reality hit him like a truck. His displeasure was fair, at least in his eyes. Her cold demeanor did nothing to her looks except diminish their entreaty. The apology had no sincerity and yes, he’s aware that the pot calling the kettle black is quite truthful when it comes to him. 

He hurries home, wanting to simply wind down with a book he still needs to finish. Exquisite literature with a cup of tea has always been his saving grace when needed. He readily places his blazer in the laundry, meaning to do it later. He sits upon his bed and places his already made tea on his nightstand. He looks for the book, having remembered the cover was a bright green. His eyes can’t find it. He grows confused but his eyes do land on an unfamiliar one in the meantime. 

He finds it to be like a storybook. Long in height and extravagant in looks. It has a black cover, one resembling the night sky. Gold letters spell out a phrase he can vaguely recognize. 

  
“ _Not By The Moon_?”


	2. Two - Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. Two red strings that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. Of course, with such an impact, it’s legitimacy was questioned again and again. Nothing like magic to be questioned. It’s ability to bind those meant for one another would either be unquestioned or fully trusted. There's no in between, at least not for most. Few hopeless romantics saw it nothing less than extraordinary while realists saw it to be folly, useless tales to entrance the dumb. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful.
> 
> Then again, the red string of fate was never meant to be just pretty.

**JIHYE CONSIDERS HERSELF TO BE AN INSPIRATIONAL PERSON**. Or rather, she usually thinks herself to be inspired. Normally, she had no problem coming up with a concept to paint. The canvas would create itself and she’d feel a bit of completeness. She’d be drawn to the brushes and her extravagantly expensive colors. They’d call out to her, urging her to pick them up and begin yet another masterpiece. Their hues should’ve created a clear image in her head, but they didn’t. Nothing’s happening. Not a damn thing.  
She stares at the long, white canvas ahead of her. It’s blank nature taunts her in the face. It dares not to move, nor does it help her inability. She’s sure that there’s new wrinkles in her skin just from the blatant staring she’s doing. It sets an infuriating feeling in her. She’s tempted to throw one of the brushes at the canvas, the thought permeating the main centers of her brain. Alas, a doorbell brings her out of her thoughts. Her eyes fly to the door with a sigh. She reluctantly gets up, her body sluggish. She quickly opens up the door, only to be welcomed with the face of the one and only Jong Minji. She rolls her eyes and lets the door swing open. He scoffs as she beelines for her kitchen.

“So great to see you—oh, it really is!” He mocks the lack of interaction as she pulls out a chilled Dr. Pepper. He strides in, setting down a big, brown paper bag on her marble counter. He squints his eyes, noticing something’s off. She’s characterically cold as per usual, with none of the sassy energy in it. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to in the last seven years. She appears out of her element, even in the silent sigh that flows from her mouth, resulting from the promising liquid full of sugar. He takes a seat at her counter, his eyes quickly finding no paint on her wrists. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight. “Finally one of your white shirts isn't ruined,” he comments.

She looks down, realizing not a single stain of color had tainted it, a rarity indeed. “Yeah,” she whispers as she takes another thirst-quenching sip. Her sleeves are rolled up, preparing for an activity she felt like giving up on. Her eyes drift to the paper bag. She raises her eyebrows. She looks between him and the source of her curiosity.

“It’s not a bomb, sheesh.” He reaches for it, rapidly opening it. He pulls out lazily shoved in fries and several wrapped up burgers, ones she knows too well. She instantly groans at the sight of it. Her rolls her eyes yet again, her annoyance a bit more recognizable. She can practically smell the grease and fat oozing just from the sight of it. She gives an agitated look to Minji. He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a fast food day - “

“Because it’s shitty processed food. I literally got food poisoning last time.” The mere thought of it makes her groan.

“That’s not exclusive to all fast food.” She sighs at his words, resorting to the remainder of her chilled soda. He pushes one of the three burgers in front of you, quickly unwrapping his own. He expects her to do the same. She casts her gaze down, looking with disdain. She thinks on how she’d have to soon be in the obvious limelight due to the inability of escaping any & all promotions as an artist. She lightly pushes it away, much to his dismay. He instantly frowns as he lowers the overly greasy away from his mouth. “Did something happen?” He knows she’s one to care about her health, but something’s up, he’s sure.

She licks her dry lips. She wonders the same as her friend. Being stuck is one thing and not knowing why is another. The unstableness of her hands is not normal, nor is the blank stare she has as she looks at the burger with disgust. Her eyes slowly float to the blank, not forgotten canvas behind the almost oblivious Minji. Even without eyes, it burns through her soul. The void with what had endless possibilities of what it could be struck a nerve in all that made sense in her mind. There’s nothing that evokes that usual fire of creativity. No color that manifests. No image inducing that familiar burst of whatever she’d call her creations. Children? Sometimes. Art? Somewhat. Perfection? She wishes.

  
She mutters a quiet “fuck” underneath her breath. It’s unnoticed by the younger of them two, Minji’s focus more concentrated on why she seemed out of place. He shakes his head and picks up the burger once more. He finds it near impossible to even fathom a specific reason at the moment. He bites into the excessively oily food. It’s unhealthy contents explode in his mouth with flavor, an experience not akin to the ever so observant Jihye. Her eyes scan his delighted face. Splendid noises of satisfaction spurred on by the heavy contents of In-N-Out Burger. It’s overloaded with onions, tomatoes, and pickles. ‘Horrid combination,’ she thinks to herself. She shakes a head a bit, taking another prolonged sip. Minji looks to her in confusion, breaking away from his captivated state of momentary bliss. She gives a small wave, hoping he just gets back to his sodium death. He shrugs. With another bite into the burger, he lets his mind wander to how great his taste buds feel and whatnot. Whatnot being a bit more complex than what Jihye may think.

Elsewhere, in a much more tense space, Park Jinyoung wonders if he makes purchases in his sleep. He sits across from an old-styled book, one with a nicely made leather cover and pages as sharp as a knife. They’re a beige worthy of the sands of Persia. The leather front is adorned with gold ends and little flurries of designs resembling that of strings. It shines in the light of his living room. It catches his eye, a quirked eyebrow in the direction of the blasted mystery. He runs his fingers over the forepart. It’s smooth, incredibly so. He finds it to be like a fairy tale book. He expects it to be full of tales, perhaps starting with Cinderella and ending with the Goblin.  
However, he has no recollection of ever ordering such a book. His own little mini-library consists of more popular stories, rather than chronicles that fit a children’s shelf. His hands grip the pointed ends, placing the cover on the left. His eyes widen in surprise, his expectations now shattering as a result. That very first page…  
It’s blank. Entirely devoid of any color or words, it stares back at him in a mocking manner. His eyes search the pages for any kind of indentation or mark to see if he’s merely tired. It’s not the case as he’s sure nothing gets past his somewhat worn out eyes. All he can find is a small scripture in the corner of the other side of the cover. It’s ink is a mix of gold and red, it’s shiny luster apparent. He squints his eyes. The scripture is written fancily, like an old tale. He can almost barely make it out. The edges are too fastly written and the ink is scarce in some spots.  
“The Prince and...The Princess,” he warily reads outloud. “Opposites do not always attract.” He raises an eyebrow at the text. “For those of the likes of the cold-hearted prince and the ice princess, such was a mantra. One of tragedy and love. One of sacrifice and heartbreak as well.” He scoffs at the text, his doubt seeping through his features. He makes a judging face at the book.

“The hell?” His eyes dart to the right of the book. His eyes catch a glimpse of moving letters. His eyes widen a bit. He shakes his head, only to see the expanding ink once more. He tightens his grip on the book. The words fill up the entire first page, moving onto the second, third, & so forth. His eyes carefully scan the words, his heart about to burst out of his chest. He’s suddenly nervous. Just like most slightly cynical young adults, he was a firm believer of genuine logic. And genuine logic is nowhere present in the mystery Park Jinyoung is faced with. He scans the words, thoughtfully, absorbing whatever fever dream is gracing him at four o’clock sharp. His confusion grows by the second. He finds numerous superfluous words and fantastical details too true for a fairy tale. The beginning is a fated mess, such words coming from the old paper.  
His iris’ finally land on two words, two distractions.

Prince Jinyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh thanks for reading and rin is the reason this is out rn lmao


	3. Three - Try Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. Two red strings that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. Of course, with such an impact, it’s legitimacy was questioned again and again. Nothing like magic to be questioned. It’s ability to bind those meant for one another would either be unquestioned or fully trusted. There's no in between, at least not for most. Few hopeless romantics saw it nothing less than extraordinary while realists saw it to be folly, useless tales to entrance the dumb. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful.
> 
> Then again, the red string of fate was never meant to be just pretty.

**JIHYE LOOKS AS THOUGH SHE COULD KILL WITH HER LOOKS MORE THAN USUAL**. Her face is stone cold with irritation and aggravation, her mood worse than usual. The day before, she had been sent a more than narcissistic letter from CEO Min. It consisted of what Jihye would describe as bullshit, bullshit, and oh, ludicrous bullshit. She was seething as she read it right before she went to sleep. She knows her to be conceited and sickly egotistical with a facade of kind tone as her shield. She makes a mental note to not underestimate just how much worse the middle aged woman could get.  
In such a letter, CEO Min had done many things within the span of about three paragraphs.

She pushes the thought to the side as the elevator she boarded moments ago opens to the sleek hallway, one she subsequently loathed a few days ago. Her heels clack against the marble floors, her presence alluded to in moments for CEO Min and the, oh, so aggravated Park Jinyoung. His face is just like last time, focused and annoyed. His face’s muscles are stuck in place and make the structure of his face even more apparent. In the back of her head, she wonders if he’s ever considered being a solo model. He’d definitely fit the standard for it, face and body included. She pushes it quite far back due to her anger covering that inquiry all too quickly. Even if it’s probable that he’s on her side and just as irritated with the older woman as her, his presence sends vexation all throughout her body. All he’s been is a smug man with only insults to come out of his plump lips. They’re cold and insensitive at best. Rude and thoughtless at worst.

  
He’s done nothing but to antagonize her talent and work, not to mention his disregard for common manners. She subconsciously narrows her eyes at him, an instinct at the forefront. Her mouth forms a scowl. He rolls his eyes at her obvious distaste and doesn’t spare any niceties at her expense. He’s already seated across from her and remains a singular seat away from CEO Min. He essentially stares daggers at her falsely welcoming eyes. He’s come to hate those untrue gazes as her messages plagued his inbox.

“How great that you both could join us!” There she goes again with that false smile. “After the other day, I trust you've both thought things over?” Her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard to the young artists. Jinyoung wants to walk out of the door as soon as possible. Jihye wonders if she’d be able to ever slap the woman across the face sometime. It’s quite appealing to her, especially now. They greet her with silence, something that causes her faux expression to slightly falter. “You two don’t need ear inspections, do you?”

“I think you’d benefit more from one.” Jinyoung’s voice is cold, his eyes having a fierce glare to them.

“My thoughts exactly, despite who they come from,” she pauses to stare directly at the older woman. Her scowls deepens. “I thought we both made it clear that we have no intention of working together, which is primarily, your fault. Didn’t think you’d be so senile, so soon, CEO Min.”

Min’s fake smile nearly dissipates as her eyes twitch with annoyance fully clear. “And I was sure that I said, you both don’t have a choice in this. It’s the company’s choice.”

“We’re not your slaves—“

“‘Slave’ is a strong word. You’re both employees of respective companies and you take the work we give you. Especially you, Jihye.” She pauses to look over to the aggravated artist. “Rejecting work means no paycheck, as we both know.” She scoffs at her reasoning. She has enough to not work for a few months, but she’s also aware of her need for something to work on. Internally, she’s desperate, despite her unwillingness to admit it. Her hand twitches every now and again for the paintbrush & has grown accustomed to putting down moments later. She’s tired of the blankness that shows up when she dares to fight against that block of inspiration. She wonders where it went and wishes she could bring it back by it’s neck. Instead, she gets more anger in her veins by the minute. “And Mr. Park Jinyoung, you, have no reason to refuse. The rest of your band mates have agreed, like reasonable young men.”  
He knows she’s sly and that he should accept, but there’s something stopping him. He’s not sure if it’s the annoyance he gets from being around the unapologetic artist near him or if it’s some kind of pride he’s not willing to let go of. He figures there’s no point in even going along with it, in response to the creator’s reaction. There’s no use in it, besides the fact that his hyungs practically have cornered him, in a way.  
“Jihye, we both know you haven’t picked up a b—“

“Don’t you dare, you old hag.” Her words slice through the CEO’s like a sharpened razor blade. She narrows her eyes as they seem even colder than before. “I thought you were the useless board member and I was the product maker, hm? Without me, this company wouldn’t even be where it is, much less anywhere of the caliber it’s recognized for.” Her scowl is even more displeasing to an eye. Her annoyance and aggravation is at the forefront. Jinyoung watches her carefully, not sure just what else will come out of her venomous mouth. “You know nothing and you’ll continue to.”

“And who brought you to such heights, hm?! You speak as if you’re him! And yet, you’re a lazy copy!” She spouts just as shiver-worthy insults. It strikes a nerve in Jihye enough to the point she whips her head to face the older woman. Her iris’ are pointed and furious at the mere mention of what Jinyoung can only assume is someone they both know. The way the CEO speaks of ‘him’ is almost barely familiar whilst Jihye’s face makes her relationship with the man apparently intense, at least to some degree. “You can’t even—“

”You’re one to fucking talk! You do realize it’s your fault, right? All of it is because of your manipulative, fake, horrid self. Don’t talk of lazy copies, when you tried milking all you could, you whore.” The older of them gasps, offended. Even Jinyoung’s eyes widen at her words. He’s sure that the situation is well beyond his own experiences, not knowing what they’re both referring to.

“You always dirty that mouth of yours once he’s in the conversation, hm? Aren’t you a grown woman?” She doesn’t retort back, finding that grinding her teeth is a better option. “You’re nothing like him.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Good. At least I won’t be bothered by some second rate businesswoman with a talent for leeching off the great.”

“Is he some god to you? Do you reverie these useless paintings? Ones of barely any merit and such ugly standards?!” She yells back, finally losing the last of her cool. Her eyes are wide with anger as Jihye’s own eyes are back to a narrowed & cold aura. CEO Min stands to gesture towards a loosely framed painting behind her. She scoffs at the sight of it.

A gleeful woman is staring towards the sun, hope emanating from the very core of it. She gazes upwards. Her entire body is accepting the sun, gearing towards something warm and welcoming. Jinyoung hadn’t focused on it before but he finds it comforting. He’s not so sure why the CEO focuses on it, but he already has a bad feeling. Jihye watches her closely. “These horrific paintings you love so much, are lesser than us!” Her hands claw at it, ripping it from the wall. Anxiety sets into both of the young artist’s hearts. Jihye’s chest swells up with worry and even more rage.  
She remembers how she set that painting, like many others in the building, up for the purpose of appreciating his art. Such a purpose was clear and yet, the CEO was nearly defiling such a piece of media. No, it’s not even media. It’s much more than that. “Stop it, you’re gonna—“

“I don’t care!” She takes it out of the loose frame. It’s fragile in her hands, with nothing protecting it. “What’s the point of such inferior things in greatness? Will taking the god down a notch open your eyes?!” She sets her hands on the top of the painting, struggling at first. Within a moment’s notice, there’s a tearing sound. Jihye’s iris’ open wide, shock all over her body. Her eyes twitch in disbelief and what she could only imagine was uncontrollable anger. It made her skin crawl and yet, it forces her to move forward. Her blood is boiling, she knows that much. She moves even faster as the tearing sound becomes louder whilst the image is too much for her mind to bare. The tear resonates throughout the room as it cascades down the now ruined painting. It’s halfway down the middle before Jihye can tightly grasp her wrist. CEO Min snaps her gaze to the young artist’s.

There’s a rage in her eyes, one that the older of them hasn’t witnessed before. She’s seen her angry and aggravated but not to such an extent. They pierce through her, like a bullet, no, they’re even deadlier than a bullet. “Get your hands off it.” CEO Min only stares back at her, currently in a state of confusion. “I said, get your fucking hands off the painting. Before I slap the shit out of you and claw it from your hands.” The tone is even colder than ice. It feels like someone’s sent an ice pick to be jammed through Min’s body as she reluctantly lets go of said paining. Jihye quickly takes it into her cold and slightly twitching hands. She looks it over, considerable anger rising through her veins.  
Min looks down at her wrist. It’s red from such a strong grip. She looks between her wrist and Jihye. She wonders just how much she admired that painting. She’s not sure if she wants to find out.

Jihye can’t stop feeling the rage that bubbles inside of her. It’s increasing by the second and she wants to fulfill the threat that left her vocal chords moments ago. The precious panting, that she personally hung up, the one created by him, is ruined and cannot be made again. It can’t be fixed. It cannot be replicated. It’s done for. Definitely and for the rest of her days, it’s dead. Just like…

“I quit.” Her tone is just as dead.

“What?” CEO Min asks, wondering if her ears are working.

“You heard me.”

“You can’t just—“ She halts her words as those cold eyes look to her once more. They’re deadly. They pierce her with a fear, with a promise to obliterate her based on whichever words she chooses next. She gulps.  
Jihye’s eyes, for a moment, retreat to the confused but focused stare of Park Jinyoung. She knows he’s a lost commoner in the commotion. He attempts to not show it. There’s a bit of her pride that’s lost due to the environment of their verbal scuffle. She wonders if he finds her even ruder, or perhaps, scary, just as CEO Min does. If he does, it’s not entirely clear. She retreats her gaze and her physical position. She turns, heading towards the elevator. Her steps are full of aggravation and hostility. She eagerly steps inside the metallic elevator and stares at the space of the window ahead of her as the doors close. The last thing they see of her is her face chalk full of silent anger. Jinyoung wonders if any of it is geared towards him.

“Mr. Park, I—“

“Save it.” He gives her another judgeful glare. “I’m sure we both know that it’s practically impossible now.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that your company already agreed.”

“And?” His tone is second to Jihye’s. Precise and cold. “Deals go south and this just went all the way under the South pole.”

“But we’re the only ones who have accepted to help you, Mr. Park. You have no choice but to go along with all of this.” He snorts at her words. There isn’t much else to be on board with. The main artist just quit. “You have to convince her.”

“Why? I have no obligation to—“

“Your album is at stake. How would your company feel that you cost them this opportunity? Your band mates?” His jaw tightens at her question. He’s quite knowledgeable of how certain groups ruin their new album or song due to minor differences. He doesn't wish to be a burden upon it.

“Can’t you get another artist? She’s not the only one at this company.”

“JYP asked for the best and she is indeed talented. Why let down your boss?”

“Tch.” He groans. He looks to the window Jihye stared at moments before. He recognizes that he’s in a corner. She’s not willing to change the lead artist and he can’t sabotage an album. His pride is at stake, in a way. It’d be lost when either choice is chosen. “You have her address, right?” CEO Min hums in delight before writing down the furious artist’s address on a small piece of paper, to which she gives to the singer. He squints at her overly fancy handwriting. He doesn’t recognize the building. Without any further questions, he exits the older woman’s office.  
The entire situation replays in his mind again and again. He can’t help but to wonder just who they were debating over & why the painting is so dear to her. Then again, his mind bounces back to a certain book and it’s confusing scriptures.

He makes sure to remember to read at least a chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and yes I do love cliffhangers ;')


	4. Four - Pleading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. Two red strings that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. Of course, with such an impact, it’s legitimacy was questioned again and again. Nothing like magic to be questioned. It’s ability to bind those meant for one another would either be unquestioned or fully trusted. There's no in between, at least not for most. Few hopeless romantics saw it nothing less than extraordinary while realists saw it to be folly, useless tales to entrance the dumb. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful.
> 
> Then again, the red string of fate was never meant to be just pretty.

**JIHYE CAN’T STOP LOOKING AT THE RUINED PAINTING**. It’s torn state haunts her. She’s a moth drawn to a flame, perpetually tortured by curiosity, but in her case, the curiosity is from a place of pain. A pain deep inside her core and of the outside. It paints her face with a contorted figure of grief, but still unmoving. Days have passed with her mind attempting to find a way out of a dream, or rather, nightmare. 

She knows her endless staring won’t undo the grandiose tear of art. It won’t magically fix itself. What’s done is done and in that information is a feeling of infinite despair. At first, it brought anxiety. And now, it strikes an emptiness. It’s a void she hadn’t anticipated before. The painting, itself, isn’t anything she’d focused on. It’s another painting she hung up with the intention of inspiration and art surrounding herself, as well as everyone else. 

A part of her wonders if the woman has a single remorseful bone in her body. Another part of her slaps the previous thought in the face. She knows she doesn’t and probably never will. If she did, she would’ve immediately apologized or called by now. She frowns at the mere thought. It’s impossible, that woman surely doesn’t have a single nicety in her bones. She scoffs at the foolishness of it, before hearing a familiar ding of the doorbell. She rises from her spot on the floor with a quirked eyebrow. Her mind immediately assumes it’s Minji, considering his annoying tendency to pop in unannounced and uniinvited. Once she looks through the peep hole, she’s facing a much more agitating guest. She groans before she opens the door only so far as to limit the distance between her and the cold man. 

“Mr. Park...why are you at my door? I didn’t think you were one for stalking.” Her eyes are dead, just like his. He can just _feel_ the animosity behind her cold stare. He already knew she was in a bad mood before going there and he’s sure both of their moods just got increasingly worse at the sight of one another. 

“It’s not stalking when your insufferable boss gives me your address without asking.” 

“Without asking, hm? Then, do tell, why the hell are you here? Sounds like you’d rather walk away from my door, rather than be at it, _right now_.” 

Jinyoung opens his mouth to object before stopping himself. She riles him up quite quickly, leading to him needing to watch his mouth. Hell, he makes sure to watch his words as to not piss off the temperamental artist. He may not want to be at her door right now, but he also doesn’t need to anger her any more. He takes in a deep breath and exhales. Before she can interrupt, he does it for her. “While correct, we both have jobs - wait, had. You quit because of a temper tantrum and now I’m here to drag your ass back to work - “ Before he can finish his sentence, she quickly pushes the door to a near close, the tip of his foot interjecting. There’s a small crack between the two of them. For a moment his eyes wander, leading him to what he thinks is a shredded painting. He can’t really tell. It’s barely a blur of what it is several feet away. 

She huffs as she looks to his somewhat struggling expression. He realizes those particular words weren’t exactly the correct choice. Jihye’s blasting daggers into his his, radiating just about every negative thing she has to say about him, nonverbally. He gulps. He understands the slight fear that CEO Min had faced a few days prior. 

“You still need to return to work, Ms. Hwan. One painting surely can’t be - “ 

“If you say “not worth it”, I will literally gnaw your foot clean off, _Park_.” 

He closes his mouth at the threat. He _really_ needs to watch his words. He sighs. She’s partially crushing his foot with her door. “Could we just talk? CEO Min is begging for you to return. I’d rather not deal with the hag.” 

She scoffs. “No one does. And why should I? She disrespected me. She doesn’t deserve my service nor does she appreciate it.” She nearly sneers at the prospect of that woman’s grubby little self. She’s never properly thanked her for every sponsor she’s brought to the company. She paid her dust in the form of disrespect. “Or is it that _you_ need me for this blasphemous project? If you didn’t, you’d be on Lee’s doorstep or better yet, _his_ office.” Lee was known for being a lesser...talented individual in the company. He’s usually chosen for less popular and well known projects. Jinyoung doesn’t pay much mind to the counterargument she spits out. He doesn’t have a single clue as to who Lee is, but he has a feeling her somewhat animositic tone isn’t just extended to them. 

He rolls his eyes with a reluctant lick of his lips. Even if he felt a glimmer of regret about his previous words, which he didn’t, he knows she doesn’t spare a single insult. “Can’t you be reasonable? We’re both adults here.” 

“And if I were to be, “ _reasonable_ ”, as you put it, then I would need this to be a beneficial deal. It’s leeching, if anything. So no.” She slams the door in his face. It makes a poignant noise and gives him a bit of shock. His eyes twitch as his irritation levels for the day have surely skyrocketed. He huffs. He had an inkling she’d be difficult but he didn’t have much to go off of. Now, he sees it. He always wondered if there was someone more stubborn than Jaebeom. He’s definitely found his answer to that question. 

He can’t begin to fathom why, unsimilar to Jaebeom’s reasons for being so. He has seen two tantrums of hers over a painting, but it’s obvious it was very precious to the painter. He knows that much, but only _that_. He stares at the plainly colored walls of the apartment halls’. He wishes to get everything over with. He has a comeback to worry about. He has a bitchy art director to deal with as well. Hwan Jihye may as well be an insufferable cherry on top. As of now, he doesn’t know why she’s such a prized artist, especially if she has such a bitter relationship with CEO Min. If nothing is done between the two of them, how could anything be accomplished? 

His phone’s ding brings him out of his thoughts. He quickly reaches for it, seeing it’s the aforementioned Jaebeom. “Jaebeom?” He answers with something less than enthusiasm. The other singer is silent for a second, a clicking noise on his side of the call. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. I just got home and had to unlock my door.” He sighs. “How’d that meeting thing go? You don’t sound too successful.” If only he knew how right he was. 

“It’s...going.” _Real convincing_. Park Jinyoung has a lot of acting talent, but he also has his huge abundance of pride. He would like to not admit how hard it is to have an artist sign on for a comeback. He also would like to keep thinking there’s a way to just exclude her entirely. 

“By ‘going’ you mean not working?” Jaebeom is met with silence, causing him to laugh a little bit in response. He nods to himself, knowing the younger of them far too well. “We don’t have to get that company for the comeback, yknow. We’ll just have to tell JYP we couldn’t get them to - “

“No!” Jinyoung suddenly shouts into the phone, surprising him & Jaebeom. He sighs in embarrassment. “Even if we tell him that, he’ll keep trying. I may as well do it for him.” In their 6 years of being idols, they’ve become accustomed to their boss’ pathetic failures. Aside from his managing ones, many have been from attempting collaborations where he wasn’t wanted. Jinyoung knows it will be even more impossible if the hag were to even try. He doesn’t want to let down the guys. He certainly doesn’t want to admit that he’s close to doing so, either. 

“What’s the problem though? She doesn’t hate you, does she?” Once again, only if he knew. 

“Hate...is a slightly accurate word. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to me or anyone else.” He thinks back on the last three meetings of theirs. Spilled coffee and harsh looks have plagued their interactions. Her particular stare of anger has stuck with him, for better or worse. 

“You didn’t do anything to offend her, did you?” Jaebeom sounds incredulous asking it, knowing Jinyoung isn’t one to offend most people. He is, however, aware he can get on people’s nerves like some people. Jaebeom had a reputation of looking scary. Jinyoung isn’t impervious to those either. The younger of the two’s silence is deafening. “ _Jinyoung_.” 

“She didn’t exactly get on my good side, okay?” He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want a lecture nor does he wanna deal with the famed painter. “I’ll just have to come up with something I guess. Maybe an incentive or something. I don’t know.” 

“Just be nice. How hard can that be?” 

“You haven’t spoken to her.” 

“If you get her on our team, we will be.” Jinyoung sighs, wondering if it’s even a possibility so far. “I’ll let you get to it. Just remember we have to tell JYP whether or not she’s joining. And soon, too. Jaebeom hangs up soon enough. Jinyoung rubs his eyes as he shifts his phone from the side of his ear to his pocket. 

He doesn’t know what to do, at least for the moment. What was he to do? Hwan Jihye may as well almost hate his guts. She also refuses to work when it involves CEO Min. Jaebeom had said be nice, but what else could that entail when he was already, in his opinion, sparing his own feelings for the painter at the moment. She aggravated him. Past an accident? Not so sure. Fruitbaskets and food come to mind as an incentive. He wonders if she even accepts such things given her behavior due to the older art director. 

He looks down to his watch secured on his right wirst. It’s already 6:00 pm. He decides to give it up for the day. If he’s to persuade Ms. Tantrum, which would be his elegant words, he would need some energy to do so. Walking to the apartment halls’ end, he takes the elevator, watching the plainly colored walls disappear with his departure. 

  
  


It takes Jinyoung not even twenty minutes to arrive at his apartment. It’s just as clean as he had left it. Things are in their appropriate place and all his books are shelved, as they should be. He tosses his worn clothes for the day in his hamper, making a note to himself that he needs to wash them in the morning. He goes through a nightly routine with a shower and change of clothes. He walks to his bed, before looking to his bedside table. He squints his eyes at the book. 

That irregular book. He tried not thinking about it, but it kept perplexing him. It’s strange enough he never remembered getting it. It’s worse that only two words are in the book. The appearance of those two words had to be an illusion, at least to the vocalist. If not, then what? He reaches over as he sits upon his bed. He smoothes over the leather cover of gold trim. He opens it up once more, seeing those words. However, there’s a slight change. 

“Thee Prince Jinyoung.” He says outloud as if to convince himself they’re there. Jinyoung is obviously a common name in some aspects, but he’s sure it’s a bit too coincidental. He scoffs at the idea of someone sending it to him as a joke. If it was, it would’ve worked by now. Except, there’s more to this supposed ‘joke’. His eyes widen within seconds. 

There it is again, those moving letters. Or rather, progressing words. Just like before, words come alive and spell out sentences by themselves. It’s as if magical ink is used by some creature right before Park Jinyoung’s very eyes. He grips the book tighter on command, training his gaze on what he could describe as crazy. He can follow it even with his eyes blinking every other second to make sure he’s not dreaming. They nearly tremble with anticipation. Perhaps even disbelief. He purses his lips, mumbling the words. 

“ _Thee Prince Jinyoung…is one of the seven princes on the council of Aysel, a neighboring kingdom to Arcadia. They had always been enemies. In the last 50 years, there has been attempts at friendship and hopefully prosperity. His father drags him to an obligatory meeting with the king of Arcadia. Jinyoung has no idea of what awaits him. He can only hope it is peaceful and not troubling. However, will it rock his world? Change it, even? For better or worse, he cannot know_.” 

Jinyoung scoffs at the fancily written words. He figured it would be a fairy tale, but he didn’t think it’d be so...exaggerated. He did always like a bit of realism to his tales. Hell, most of his book collection was realistic fiction and whatnot. He continues reading.

“ _Prince Jinyoung arrived at the sought after palace of the neighboring kingdom, Arcadia. It was his first visit to the well known castle containing the royal family native to such cold areas. He had heard of the Min’s. Considered to be some of the most ruthless family’s, the Park’s naturally wanted to make some sort of deal. While it wasn’t exactly up to Jinyoung, the next in line of the Park royal family, he still had to take care of such business. ‘Take care’ is probably not used correctly in this situation but it was stressed to him just how seriously he must take it_.” 

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at what he assumes to be the introduction. He traces his fingers over the possibly new ink. He’s not too sure if it’s considered new or old but pays it no mind. It’s texture is settled. His eyes continue. 

“ _He wasn’t used to such cold as his region, as well as the other 6 royal families’, was home to a warm setting of greens. It had barely been 3 days and he was already missing the warmth he had grown accustomed to all his life. Before he knows it, he and his servants are at the gates. His father is ahead of them. They are easily let in and quickly become prepped for a meeting. Jinyoung has been through far too many meeting such as these. Tea is mandatory. A fire place may as well be a requirement. Warmer clothing is certainly a must_.

_He remembers meeting the king beforehand, a few years back. Granted, it was during a more dangerous time for the two families. They’ve always been considered enemies and had only recently tried being on friendly terms. He barely pays attention to his father’s and the king’s conversation as he thinks back to his home. He’ll be ecstatic when he can get back to warmth_.” 

Jinyoung licks his dry lips looking over the words a 2nd time. He finds nothing too bizarre (aside from the text being alive and moving). He can’t help but expect something horrendous or great. He also takes note how such a prince was internally whining, a lot. He’s not too sure if he is supposed to resemble him or not. He sets his eyes on reading more of the progressing text, but feels his eye lids become heavy. He attempts to shake it off by rubbing his own temples and smoothing over his face but it doesn’t help. He feels more lightheaded than usual. He lazily looks over to his clock. 

“9:00 pm? Already?” He questions just how long he had been staring at the book. ‘Couldn’t have been _that_ long.’ He thinks to himself before groaning as he feels some kind of fatigue wash over him. He sighs. He hadn’t done any dance practice or extreme activities, so why was he...so...tired? He can barely keep his eyes open as he nearly topples over. He looks down to the ever progressing words. He squints as he sees the next few words. 

“The red string of fate was never meant to just look pretty.” 

  
‘ ** _THUD!_ **’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I actually kinda like the 2nd half of this I hope it doesn't suck too much ass


	5. Five - Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. Two red strings that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. Of course, with such an impact, it’s legitimacy was questioned again and again. Nothing like magic to be questioned. It’s ability to bind those meant for one another would either be unquestioned or fully trusted. There's no in between, at least not for most. Few hopeless romantics saw it nothing less than extraordinary while realists saw it to be folly, useless tales to entrance the dumb. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful.
> 
> Then again, the red string of fate was never meant to be just pretty.

**PARK JINYOUNG GASPED UPRIGHT** . He heaved his chest up and down. His eyes shot up in confusion. Panic, more so. He’s no longer in his soft, comfortable bed. He’s no longer sitting upon his clean mattress. He’s no longer holding that damned book. “Not by the moon?” He whispers to himself, almost as if it’s some sacred word. His eyes are scattered in looking all around him, searching for each corner as to ascertain just _where_ he is. Jinyoung didn’t know where the fuck he is. And he’s nearly too scared to wonder if he’s in some kind of heaven. Or hell. That works too. 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He thinks inside his head. His heart is beating far too fast, which may be a sign he’s not dead. In reality, he has no reason to think he’s dead, but he is human. He clutches the spot where his heart is, looking down to see the unknown material at the ends of his hands. There’s small frills at the ends of his sleeves, which are most definitely not the comfortable cotton pajama shirt he had. Rather, he notices far too elaborate deep blue materials for clothing as of now. Nor his pants the easy to move in pajama pants. Instead of socks inside his home, he’s wearing fancy _somethings_. ‘Fuck.’ 

He’s sure he can feel bits of silk embedded into the arms and legs of whatever the hell he’s wearing. He wants to laugh at how archaic it seems, but the fear of not knowing where he is a little more prominent. He angles his head to gaze once more. Gold interior is everywhere. Satin cloths decorate the room as banners and window shades. Symbols are embroidered into them, a fancy pattern quite evident. Jinyoung can’t even fathom would it could be. He wonders if it’s a clan symbol. However, it only reminds him of Game of Thrones or something. 

His eyes dance back to the walls to the right of him. Wood is burning, quite loudly at that. Before now, it was some kind of background noise but he nearly cringes at how crisp the flames burn the natural resource. Sure, he’s been near a fireplace before, but he’s never been near one so...rough sounding. Gazing up, there’s yet another banner. It’s a royal green, emerald in high definition. The border is lined with gold and has tassels that could rival the things he’s wearing. He thinks it looks heavy as he scans his eyes over it. The symbol is grand, that much is obvious. 

It’s outline looks that of a bird, but bigger than some common pigeon. It’s much larger, much more intimidating. It reminds him more of a dragon. It’s supposed beak is bigger than the usual nonthreatening bird. It’s a bit gnarly, the way it roars outward as it’s on legs, keeping a stance. Jinyoung finds it to be one of confidence and an unyielding attitude. Much like a dragon, it’s suggested roar is one of defiance. ‘No backing down despite a feeble looking biology’, he thinks. 

He wonders if there’s some name attributed to it. Then again, who wants a bird as a symbol of their power? Why such a small creature most scoff at? The questions stick in Jinyoung’s mind, but he brushes it aside. He has more pressing matters. He looks back to his hands. The frilly ends of his sleeves are still there, constantly touching his now sweaty palms. He barely stops himself from hypervenilating. Panic is steeled in his veins but he tries to grasp a little of his current location. 

He casts his eyes downwards, eyeing whatever the hell he’s currently sitting on. He would usually scoff at the gaudiness of the constant gold surrounding him, but nothing comes out. A red cushion is squished beneath him, it’s material looking nothing less than expensive. It’s sturdier than even the wooden chairs in his lofty apartment. He gets a wide glimpse of his weirdly uncomfortable shoes. His feet are no longer enveloped by his simple socks. Instead, they’re a mix of leather and what he thinks to be pleather adorning his feet. The laces are complicated and fit a bit too tightly for his liking. He wonders who the hell even would want to wear such contraptions for footwear, but he groans and shrugs it off to focus on other things. 

“Are you inspecting your shoes?” A man suddenly says with a deep chuckle. Jinyoung’s eyes dart to the owner of the voice, his expression a bit more spooked. He’s wearing similar looking clothes but they’re a deep shade of red. It nearly looks blood red to the singer. Gold trim decorates the ends of his sleeves and collar. Jinyoung can’t see the trim of his own collar, but wonders if such detail is attributed to him as well. “You’ve had tighter. You haven’t forget you desired the other ones have you? I even hated them.” He chuckles once more, confusing him. 

He’s scared he really is dead and suddenly has some angel, or devil, watching over him. “You’re pale as a ghost. Do you need a swig of bourbon?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head as a no. Alcohol certainly wouldn’t help at a time like this, he knows that much. The older man quirks an eyebrow at him. He looks a bit worried, confused even. Jinyoung shares the sentiment for very different reasons. He’s afraid to ask a simple question. He figures he’s in a dream. However, who’s that awake in a dream in a place they’ve never been to before? He has no clue who the older man could be. He wonders if that’s his mind’s way of putting his own father near him, but he looks nothing like that. He still has his jet black hair with a less muscle-like build. He’s pretty sure his father is shorter than the stranger too. “What were you saying again? I got lost in thought.” Jinyoung takes the gamble in feigning some kind of understanding. 

“As always, you have no interest huh?” The man feeds into it, unaware of what it really meant. “I was just discussing how you should be meeting the girl of the hour.” 

‘Girl of the hour?’ Jinyoung repeats the sentence in his head. He gets yet another question to be unanswered. ‘Can’t be too harmful to ask right? How am I supposed to know who that is?’ “Girl of the hour? That can be many people.” 

“Not with my son being so popular with the ladies. I know who much you like to be surprised, boy.” His nonchalant tone peeves the singer a bit. From the words, ‘son’ and ‘boy’, he finds it appropriate to say the man is supposed to be his father. He questions just why that is and why his own star status carried into such a odd dream. “It’s about time I find her busy father. Why don’t you go on and find her? She should be in the study.” Jinyoung’s eyes widen a bit at the request. 

He has about five concerns at the moment. ‘1) Where the hell am I? 2) Why am I here? 3) Who is this girl? 4) Why am I wearing such uncomfortable shoes? 5) Why can’t I wake up already?’ He has the answer to none, aggravating the confused man more. He warily gets up as his supposed ‘father’ eyes him before exiting the lavish room. Jinyoung bites his lower lip and reluctantly exits the room. 

He finds the hallway to be just as extravagant. There’s similar woodwork of statues and little details you’d find in some passion project. He doesn’t recognize them, but then again, he hasn’t exactly memorized many famous paintings to a point. He does, however, wonder who painted them. He could have simply made them up, trusting the fact everything at the moment is a dream. 

One of the many paintings appeared familiar. 

The first thing he spots is raven black hair, neatly tied up into a bun. Few hairs escape the clean style, forming a strand to the right of her nearly pitch black eyes. He nearly finds himself getting lost in them, as if they were a void masquerading as a trap. Her pale skin compliments her dark hair and iris’. Although, Jinyoung has a feeling it’s not exactly natural as makeup seems to be a viable explanation. He’s had his fair share of it’s polarizing use. 

As far as he can tell, the woman isn’t too old or young. No wrinkles are present in any strokes upon portions of her skin but there are motions to suggest her own progressed womanhood. Her firm stare suggests her maturity, or the impression of it. Arched eyebrows and an elegant pose give further evidence for the former. Her hands are folded within one another in her lap, her surely expensive dress serving as a stable center for them. Black and purple trim line her clothing. Even it’s fabric looks genuine through the details of paint. Her back is completely straight, no slouching in sight. She looks to him. A proper stare of address. Even her lips form a professional line teetering between an enviable smile and one of displeasure, given the framing. By all means, it’s gorgeous - she’s gorgeous. He commends the lifelike-ness of the piece. The strokes are of an experienced painter, perhaps even a master one. It appears detached yet a smidge personal. It’s passionately created for sure. Even if the woman doesn’t exist, Jinyoung finds it too real to even be on some canvas. He can’t stop wondering what it’s trying to say. But he doesn’t know what it’d even say. 

‘That she’s real? She’s here, with us? She’s here without being there?’ Questions race through his mind. The piece stimulates a bit in his brain.

He reaches a hand upwards to graze the gold frame and even the painting, but something stops him. His hand trembles. He pulls it back without a single shred of assurance. 

‘Why shouldn’t I touch it?’ He asks himself. There’s no guard or owner telling him not to. And yet, something compels him like a ghosting touch. A sacred rule unspoken and unknown. He almost shivers at the feeling. He looks up to the woman’s strong gaze. He’s not sure if the artist even meant for it follow whoever crosses it’s path. He’s even more not sure if that was the woman’s initial intention. _A ghost from a past intention_. 

His brows furrow. He can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu when it came to that glare. Even more so concerning the look between disgust and entertainment. It’s nearly at the tip of his tongue. He can basically say it without words. However, it won’t come out. Somehow forgetting words as he thinks of them. 

He attempts a shake of his head to rid himself of the creeping feeling that invades his heart. It’s unpleasant in every form, even more so than the hag that permeates a majority of his career. Even more than the agitation he recalls from the past few days. 

All of a sudden, a creak makes it’s way to Jinyoung’s ears. He whips his head to the source of the sound, farther away from the room he recently exited. He focuses his senses on it’s origin, seemingly being above stairs older looking than him. He squints his eyes at the stairs. They’re a pitch black staircase, dustier than god knows what. He looks stable enough...for a second. 

Another creak come from above the weak looking structure. Jinyoung’s eyes dart between that higher than him and the painting. Even he can admit it’s a little better elsewhere than near the creepy painting. 

He sets off to cautiously climb the stairs step by step. They creak all on their own, a bit louder than the ones he heard only a moment ago, though. He continues upwards nonetheless. It’s only a flight of two before he reaches grand looking doors. Gold looking vines decorate the handles while a emerald green lines the innards of the door’s outsides. They’re of wood, a kind that the young singer isn’t knowledgable of. He pushes forward, his hand twisting the knob and handle, leading into a bright room that shocks even him. 

A gust of fresh air passes him as his eyes land on what he’d consider mountains of bookcases filled to the brim with books. His mouth is left ajar as he slowly enters with bits of amazement in his steps. The mentioned cases are from some kind of darkwood, complimenting the array of varied books in his sight. The walls are painted to fit with several color schemes while having a few more paintings to steal the show. Jinyoung’s eyes rake over the myriad of books. He steps forward to get a better look at the showstopper collection before his scanning eyes get the look of something just as worthy. To his left, the sunlight highlights such things, such _people_. 

Auburn hair nearly shines in the ray of light. Stands a woman not even four inches shorter than him. A medium tone is present in her visible arms, a book clutched in hand. Her gaze is upon the pale pages from a dark black spine. Her eyes are highlighted in the sun, a shining hazel coming through clearly. They’re focused on the words in front of her. 

Her slender form is ecentuated by the royal black and reds of her attire. A full body dress with a train to fit her bust more than necessary. It wasn’t as big as what the woman wore in the haunting painting, at least to Jinyoung, it wasn’t. It was slimmer and a bit more comfortable looking. He imagines it comparable to the color of wine and gold necklaces. Her stance is slightly slouched, just barely. Her neck is angled to get a better view of the book’s intricacies. Her deep red hair is a bit messier than even his own. It’s like a mane with only having parts of it brushed down before hand. 

Without intention, the creak Jinyoung heard before appears underneath his foot. The sound gets to the woman’s ears, alerting her all too quickly. She promptly shuts the black-spined book. Her well manicured fingernails tightly secure their place on the book. Her bright eyes from a moment ago escape the light. Their now dark nature scan Jinyoung’s surprised stance. 

She suddenly gasps in realization, shocking the dark haired man a bit more. “What the hell are you doing here?” There’s slight venom in her voice. 

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Pardon?” 

“Tch. Of course you don’t remember, which just may help me a bit.” She clicks her tongue in dissatisfaction, despite the latter of her sentence. She looks at him unimpressed. 

“Ji…?” He mumbles, giving it a try. His cautious look watches her nearly unchanging expression. It goes from unimpressed to even more agitated. 

“So you bothered to remember a portion. Hooray.” She speaks with a belated tone of annoyance. She looks to the window, the ray of sun retreating from the abundance of books. Her expression neutralizes as she watches the source of warmth go away for the day. She crosses her arms against her chest with a sigh. Jinyoung finds himself trying to see the woman she reminds him of. He instantly recollects the moments of his investigation of the painting, but that’s not it. It’s something - someone a bit farther back. The serious stare and posture is all too reminscient of before. It’s almost like a haze. Her deep hair bares similarity to her, even her hazel eyes are strong in their gaze. 

“Jihye?” She looks back with a roll of her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? In my dream?” 

She scoffs. “Aren’t you the one visiting, bastard? And last time I checked, you don’t live here.” There’s more animosity behind her words this time. “If anything, must be a nightmare, Jinyoung.” 

With the last sound of her voice, Jinyoung feels a smack to his head. Jihye is far from him and yet the slight pain grows stronger. He holds his hands to his temple, feeling no bruise of the sort. His face scrunches up in pain. His vision becomes blurry. He can only see a haze of images and most importantly, Jihye. Everything’s suddenly red. 

“What is up with - “ Her rough voice ceases. Suddenly, he’s above someone. He can’t see their face, but he can see blood. Lots of blood. It smears his hands as he holds someone in his grasp. Their hair and skin is painted red with the fluid. They reach a hand up to his face, smearing it with the substance. He can’t focus. Everything’s moving fast. 

“Don’t feel b - you have to - i l - “ everything is like static. He can’t make sense of it. It’s all moving like a race he’s behind in. He instinctively reaches a hand out in his own view. Blood covers it like paint. He can feel tears cascading down his cheeks. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. 

“ _I can’t_.” 

_THUD!_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank for reading if you did but also GOD YEAH WHY DID IT TAKE ME THIS FUCKING LONG ??? and yeah this sucks but also pain :)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the au started on twitter (@whoresseok) and hopefully you'll enjoy it. Kind of slow updates but comments + likes/kudos are appreciated !!


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